


She is Not Beautiful

by HoWeLLing



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Drabble, Dragon Age Kink Meme, F/M, Older Woman/Younger Man, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-13
Updated: 2016-09-13
Packaged: 2018-08-14 20:11:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8027407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HoWeLLing/pseuds/HoWeLLing
Summary: Based off an older prompt from the Inquisiton kink meme.
Just a short, pointless drabble about my older!Trevelyan mage, and her sweet Commander.





	She is Not Beautiful

**Author's Note:**

> I always imagined my Trevelyan and Cullen would start a romance differently than in-game, if only because an age difference significantly changes the dynamic.
> 
> Based off this prompt:  
> I keep seeing the mature dude/young quizzie trope popping up all over the place. Which is fine! However, I would love to see Blackwall falling for an Inquisitor his own age. Or maybe Cullen finds himself fascinated by an older lady Inquisitor. Or any guy, really, I'm not fussed. Also, race not important. I'd just like to see a middle-aged Inquisitor gal get some love:)

Cullen isn’t quite sure what to make of the Inquisitor.

He had no expectations, no preconceptions. Nobody expected the debacle at the Conclave, after all. Nobody expected the breach, or the rifts, or the sheer loss of life. Nobody expected Lady Fearne Trevelyan.

“Your thoughts lead you astray, Commander,” the Inquisitor moves her pawn to a new position with a pointed _clack_.

She is winning their chess match, per usual, but today Cullen hardly puts up a fight. His thoughts are trapped, spinning round and round in his head without a care. She has been patient, but their game is coming to its inevitable conclusion. “My apologies, Inquisitor,” Cullen says, sighs. “These past few days have been particularly busy.”

She hums a few slow, thoughtful notes, her expression forever distant. Cullen wonders if they are from some song or ballad, but has never built up the nerve to ask. “Of course,” she says. “More recruits are flowing through our gates by the day.”

Cullen smiles despite himself. “It is not so bad,” he admits, leaning forward across the table as if to share a secret. “I do enjoy their training.”

The Inquisitor chuckles, subdued. Cullen meets her eyes, and reminds himself to breath. They are a strange, pale green. Reminiscent of the mark on her hand. Not appealing, and made worse by her cool demeanor, but interesting. _Captivating_.

“It suits you, to teach,” she moves her next piece with same measured grace in which she does all things. “Check.”

Cullen grins. “Another?”

She is not beautiful, the Inquisitor.

Hers is the face of a woman who was pretty, once, but time has not been kind. Tales of strife and hardship in every scar. Traumas captured by a crooked nose and notched ear. Even still, there is an elegance to her features. Something in the knife of her high cheekbones, in the delicate curve of her brow, that belays a certain breeding.

She is not beautiful, the Inquisitor.

But her hair gleams in the afternoon sunlight, red curls streaked by rivers of shining silver. She smiles, and the wrinkles at the corner of her eyes deepen and the thin, cruel line of her mouth becomes soft.

When she smiles, Fearne Trevelyan is stunning.

“I would love to, Commander.”

Cullen cannot contain his child-like excitement. “Good,” he says, fumbles. “I- I would like to spend… more time. With you. And me. Together, I mean.”

Her eyes are gentle, kind, when she says, “That sounds wonderful.”

His cheeks flush a dark, telling red, but he can hardly bring himself to care. “Truly?”

“Oh, Cullen,” she says, but it is not cruel or pitying or patronizing. She lays her hand atop his own without a hint of the awkwardness that seems to color all of Cullen’s interactions, and leans across the table for a slow, chaste kiss.


End file.
